


I will be yours

by AlesiaM



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Falling In Love, M/M, Mutual Masturbation, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-17
Updated: 2019-10-17
Packaged: 2020-12-21 09:43:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,367
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21072842
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlesiaM/pseuds/AlesiaM
Summary: Well. He started it himself. There was nowhere to retreat.The guy nervously shrugged his shoulders and pressed the call button:- Cleaning, Mr. Nikiforov!





	I will be yours

**Author's Note:**

> English is not my language. But I like to try new things and share my stories. I do not know what will come of it, but I hope to please you. Translates google :)))

Perhaps it was a bad idea to replace with Mila. The girl came to the writer Victor Nikiforov three times a week: cleaning, cooking, brought groceries. Sometimes I walked with Makkachin. The usual work, for which Nikiforov paid well, and he didn’t skimp on tips. The bonus was the amazing appearance of the writer and his cheerful disposition.

Mila often told Yuri about Nikiforov: what they chatted about, what he was dressed in, how cute he was, what caused envious glances and sighs of hopeless Japanese full of hopelessness.

Nikiforov. Victor Nikiforov. A fashion writer from Russia temporarily residing in Detroit.

It all started with his stories. Yuri downloaded the collection to pass the time on the subway while he was getting home from the dance studio. And then, as they say, he was hooked. Victor wrote about modern life, wrote easily and with humor. Yuri read, bought his books, watched the interview and was subscribed to the writer’s Instagram, twitter and Facebook. Posters with Nikiforov decorated the walls of his room, hung in the shower: Victor smiles, Victor sits in a half-turn, Victor waves his hand affably. Victor is an impossible handsome. The glance of icy blue eyes has repeatedly made Katsuki's heart contract painfully. He was his fan. On the whole head.

Mila knew about his fascination with Russians, made fun of him. Yuri himself did not know how it happened. He persuaded the girl to replace him, said that he could not live without Nikiforov’s autograph, a meeting with him. Mila agreed, taking a promise from him not to annoy the writer much so that she would not be fired later. Katsuki assured her of his purest and most innocent intentions.

A trill of a bell rushed through the house, and after a couple of minutes they opened it. Victor Nikiforov.

Katsuki seemed to forget how to breathe. Tall, handsome. Yuri, take a breath. Correct chiseled facial features. This is not difficult. The platinum bang casually falls off, covering the bottomless blue eyes. Yuri-i-i.

The guy is embarrassed, blushes, wrinkles the strap of the bag in his hands, then jerks his chin up and looks at the writer with an unblinking strange look.

\- I'm from Mila today. She's sick, and I'm replacing her. Did Mila tell you? Can I clean you, Mr. Nikiforov? My name is Katsuki Yuri. - The voice of the Japanese sounds surprisingly firm and confident.

Nikiforov examines him for a few moments, glances over his figure, lingering on his face. Smiles kindly and shuns, invites to come in.

Nikiforov rents a house. He is here temporarily, just traveling the world in search of inspiration. Now he lives in Detroit. And yet, Yuri cannot but note that the house is furnished with taste. Nothing fanciful, but everything is elegant and expensive. Bright spacious rooms, light furniture, paintings on the walls.

\- May I proceed, Mr. Nikiforov? Will you have any wishes, would you like something? - Yuri really wants to believe that his voice sounds confident, since his fingers tremble treacherously, and his body throws into heat, then cold. Just to not blush.

Victor looks at him with an incomprehensible look. Again considering? She smiles with her gorgeous smile from the turns of glossy magazines.

\- Just Victor. You can Vitya. I don’t like all these misteres, -the blond twitches his shoulders and winks at Katsuki. - I locked Makkachin, so as not to get in the way. You can tidy up the office and living room. I will make coffee and then work with a laptop.

A man took a bag of groceries from him and retired to the side of the kitchen. Yuri walked steadily toward the office. Entering the office, the guy frantically pressed himself against the door. Hands trembling treacherously, thoughts confused in the head.

What did it just happen? Nikiforov winked at him? Flirting? It seemed? The fruit of an imagination? Katsuki was not sure of anything, except that his heart was beating furiously in his chest, threatening to burst from an excess of feelings at any moment.

Was that what he wanted? Just talk, find out more about the idol, sign a couple of books. Was this what he expected? That Nikiforov will turn out to be his handsome staff? The posters were shamelessly lying, not transmitting even a hundredth of the writer’s charisma. Miserable faceless copies. Can Yuri now look at them if he saw the original? First-class chic original.

The blond's smile burned through his heart, pulsed in his veins, at his fingertips, spreading a shiver of desire throughout his body. Sensual lips ... Katsuki will surely spend more than one sleepless night remembering their sweet curves, imagining their softness and traces that they could leave on his body. Victor should definitely be amazingly kissing. So many fans and admirers.

Not that Yuri. The boy’s sexual experience was frustratingly modest. Relations for some reason did not constantly develop, limited to sex for one night. Yuri, it seems, tried to do it all. At first I tried to meet with the girls, but quickly convinced of the non-standard nature of my orientation, I stopped. Then there were dating sites of a certain orientation, clubs. Sometimes the meetings ended with the coveted “To you or to me?” Sometimes he was just fucked in the club’s toilet. Sometimes. Too long, since the body reacts so treacherously to the blond. Is that the point? Definitely.

Trying to distract himself from unsolicited thoughts and put his body in order, Katsuki zealously waved his rag, brushing away the nonexistent dust from the table. Still, Mila cleaned well.

A soft cough was heard from the door. Victor stood leaning against the door jamb with a tray in his hands.

\- Yuri, I see you've already finished here. Will you keep me company in the living room? I made us soft drinks, - Victor smiled softly, nodding at a tray with two glasses. - I don't know what you love, but I think you will like it.

You might think Yuri might refuse him. In something.

The living room was bright and airy. Soft sunlight streamed through the large windows, covered with translucent curtains, settling glare on expensive furniture. The scent of freshly cut flowers filled the air.

Yuri tried to focus on cleaning, rather than sticking to his idol. The guy sincerely hoped that Victor did not notice the views in his direction. But why not watch something ?! It seemed that the air itself was melting in the room, flowing viscous desire around the body. Yuri imagined so many times at night how the writer kisses him, slips his lips on his chest, caresses his body with his fingers. And now he’s very close, reach out and you can touch.

Interestingly, Nikiforov’s skin is as soft as he imagined? The Japanese turned away against the wall, trying to hide his stained cheeks.

Nikiforov, having cocktails on the table, sat on the couch with a laptop: fingers, like butterflies, quickly fluttered on the keyboard, his face focused on the monitor.

But Nikiforov has beautiful fingers! So long, elegant and, probably, skillful. The guy looked at these fingers, imagining how he caresses them: gently runs his lips along the phalanges, sucks, caresses his tongue, moistening with saliva, so that later it was easier to penetrate. The imagination painted how Nikiforov caresses him with these fingers, long, gently, sensually touching the areola of the nipples and the rising penis.

The rising penis? Fuck, Yuri! ..

Katsuki would have been burned with shame if all the blood had not rushed to a certain part of the body. Yes, how can that be ?! He stood on Victor Nikiforov. Well, in principle, not the first time, but not before the writer! The young man cringed, still continuing to wave a rag and trying to control his body.

The sound of a falling glass broke the silence.

\- Oh, Yuri, I'm not so clever! - Nikiforov was sitting on the sofa, and a blue stain of liquid was creeping under the table,- I just took this glass, and it slipped out of my hands. Sorry, sorry! I'm so crooked! I need to quickly wipe the stain, will you help me?

The blond looked at him with indescribable horror and supplication in his eyes.

\- Yes, Mr. Nikiforov ... Of course ... I will help. With whom does not happen. You are not at all awkward. What novels you write! The whole world is reading. Your books ...

Yuri himself poorly understood that he answered Nikiforov. Climbing under the table, as it turned out, was not the best idea. The guy caved in, trying to reach the spot. On the right, Nikiforov’s leg rested on his thigh. Interestingly, is he going to move over? Yuri even felt the heat of someone else’s body through the fabric. Or is his body reacting like this?

Perhaps it was necessary to move this table, and now it is writhing under it. Fortunately, Victor does not see his face turning red. Bend down, reach the spot, back and forth, forward and backward. With each movement, his hips rub against other people's legs. The heat of desire spreads throughout the body, the blood pulsates in the veins. Penis rubs pants. I want to run a hand there, relieve tension. Katsuki is forgotten for a moment and puts a brush on his groin.

\- No. It won’t work, you need more water. I’ll bring it, -comes from somewhere above deafly. - Wait for me.

Victor out? How much time does he have? 5-10 minutes? It doesn't matter. Enough for him. Yuri frantically unfastens the belt of trousers and grabs the rising member. He will think about all this later, at home, if he survives this day at all. Now it’s completely not up to it. Katsuki inhales deeply, trying to catch Victor's smell, imagine his lips on his cock. The images burn, and Yuri cannot help but moan. The body arches a wave of desire, I want more. A lot more. I want to take off all my clothes, open myself to Victor - here I am, all of you, just take me, please ...

Please, Victor! ..

Yuri feels his strong arms hug him and his neck skin burns with hot breath.

\- Oh no no no! What a bad boy you are, Yuri! I asked to wait for me, - the voice above the ear sounds unusually hoarse.

Yuri feels it with all his skin, every cell of his body. Feels the desire of Victor.

\- This is ... - what can you say if you are standing with your pants down in someone else's living room and masturbate? - I ... could not resist. Sorry ...

\- Have you thought about me? Introduced me? - asks Victor.

The warm lips of the blonde cover his lips, not giving an answer.

Yuri could not imagine that it would be so wonderful. Victor kisses him hotly and passionately. Like the last time. It bites into the lips, tracing their outline with the tongue, penetrating inside, weaving their tongues and caressing the palate.

A man caresses his neck, chest, leaving moist hot paths of kisses along the collarbone. Bites delicate skin under an Adam's apple. The skin under the touch is too sensitive, burns with the flame of unsatisfied desire. Yuri can no longer endure, short frequent moans break from her lips.

Nikiforov leans over him, dragging blue icy eyes into the bottomless ocean. Yuri sees in their depths an undisguised fire of desire. The same burns in Katsuki's body. The guy runs his fingers into the light locks of hair, attracts, returning passionate kisses. He presses with his whole body, frantically asking for more.

\- Yes, you are a hot guy!.. - the surprised, admiring notes are heard in the writer's voice.

Nikiforov takes off their two extra clothes, continuing to caress the guy. Yuri unequivocally presses her hips to the writer, responding to every fleeting movement.

\- Are you from below? - Victor wants to do everything well, Victor wants this guy. - Get on your knees and bend down, solnyshko.

Yuri nods and performs. He will be the best for his idol. Yuri feels the lips of others on her body, greedy, insatiable kisses along the spine, a bite near the sacrum. Heart trembles in the chest. Too, everything is too much. The body lives its own separate life, forcing the guy to bend, substituting for the desired kisses. Japanese feels the rising waves of desire. He drags him into a whirlpool of passion, drowns in this pool of lust and desire, he can no longer stand it. Need to warn ...

\- Oh! .. - all that he has time to say before the body shudders in ecstasy, and sperm splashes on the carpet. - I-I'm sorry ... I ... could not, did not wait.

Yuri looks around confusedly, expecting to see annoyance on her partner's face.

Victor sits next to the stunned look and smiles broadly.

\- Yuri! Yuri, did you end even without hands, only from my touch? - mischievous lights dance in the eyes of a Russian, - but you are my sweet one!

Hmm ... Interesting interpretation. Although Nikiforov knows better who and how ends under him. With his army of fans.

\- Victor, I'm sorry, please. It’s my fault, and I have to make amends. I ... I can help you with my hand and mouth, - Yuri hoped that he could clearly pronounce the embarrassing phrase.

\- Ah, no ... - the man grimaced annoyingly, brushing silver strands from his forehead, - I can do it with my mouth. Just stand there.

Yuri felt the warmth of his fingers on his crotch. Nikiforov has really skillful fingers. A man caresses him, widely spreading his buttocks, outlining the ringlet of entry. The brunette felt the trembling of desire slowly pass through his body, making his heart beat faster.

Language?! Too welcome and forbidden caress. Previous partners never caressed him like that. Yuri tried to break free, protest, but instead a long sob or a groan broke from his lips.

\- Do you like it, baby? - comes over contented from behind.

Victor caresses his tongue, pushes inward, smoothing the delicate folds of the skin, selects the desired pace, imitating the movements of the penis. Yuri feels wet kisses, hears squelching, depraved sounds. Katsuki is again drowning in a whirlpool of new transcendental sensations, surrendering to the capable hands of her lover. Victor has already replaced the tongue with his fingers, developing it. One finger, two, three ... Long and gentle torture from Nikiforov. Will Yuri stand it?

\- Victor! Please ... I want you too much ... Ah ... - Katsuki hears himself poorly, his throat is already sore with moans, but the blonde still heard him.

Victor enters him with one sharp push. It freezes for a few moments, giving a feel, and begins to move again. Sweeping, confident, giving unearthly pleasure. Yuri finally stops thinking. Reality disappears, burns out in the fire of flaring passion. Katsuki feels this fire in his veins, feels in hot fingers that squeeze his hips, hears in a hoarse breath that has gone astray behind his back. Nikiforov breaks down, speeds up the pace, takes it already tightly, on the border with pain. But Yuri likes it. I like to see Victor so real, with dilated pupils, with bangs adhering to his forehead, with drops of sweat on his broad chest. Katsuki himself now, for sure, doesn’t look any better with bitten lips, tear marks in the corners of his chocolate eyes.

This flame will burn them. One for two.

They end almost simultaneously. The blonde is driven in with the last sharp push, gutturally something wheezing in Russian. Yuri is pouring into her palm.

Then both lie on the carpet, hugging and kissing each other, weave their fingers together, not wanting to part for a moment.

Yuri thinks tiredly that, nevertheless, it was a wonderful day to call for an autograph.  
**********************************************************************************************************  
A large canvas bag crashed painfully into my shoulder. The guy frowned annoyingly, trying to straighten the bag strap. And who only orders so much? Then drag the unfortunate postmen.

The sun was beaming mercilessly, and the hope of coolness was dispelled with the last clouds in the azure sky. The beautiful blue uniform turned into a shell, not crushing any coolness to the body. Unbearably wanted, spitting on the charter, take off all my outer clothing, preferably with a shirt.

He can’t. He must be a good postman. It is only his fault that he got lost and has been wandering for half an hour among similar houses of the same type. The guy corrected the ever-moving glasses in blue frames and looked again at the address. After all, somewhere very close by.

After some time, the right house was found. The young man was relieved that his misadventures were almost over: now he will give this parcel and return home, go to the beach with his poodle.

The guy straightened his loose blond strands, sighed and pressed the bell button.

The door was opened almost immediately. A handsome tall man appeared on the threshold, platinum hair sparkled in the sun.

\- Mr. Nikiforov? - the postman specified, looking at the addressee.

\- He himself, - the man looked at him displeasedly, searing him with the cold of his arctic eyes, - shouldn't you have come in the morning? I’m a famous writer, I have a clock all day. I have a presentation, and I'm waiting for you here.

The brunette was confused by such words. The remnants of self-control left him, with hopes for a good end to the day. But the blush returned. The guy felt his cheeks begin to treacherously turn red, and his throat begins to tickle with excitement.

\- Please forgive me, Mr. Nikiforov! I have recently been at this job. I ... - say that the postman got lost among the houses? - Traffic jams. Trails loaded.

The blond's eyebrows skeptically fly up: - Yes, really? You are on foot. I saw from the window.

Nikiforov looks at him for some time with undisguised discontent, sighs:  
\- Oh well. You are here. Sorry for being rude. It’s just a very valuable package for me. I'm really looking forward to it.

The man smiles radiantly and holds out his hand. How a smile changes this face! No, the man is still beautiful, but these specks in aquamarine eyes! The brown-haired look inadmissibly long into these eyes, forgetting about everything in the world.

Parcel! .. He did come to give the parcel, a belated awareness again colors his cheeks in pink.

\- Here .. - with trembling fingers he holds out bundles of letters, small parcels.  
Handsome meticulously examines packages, frowns brows.

\- And one more? There should be more. I ordered. Not lost? - the man again looks at him with irritation.

\- Of course not, Mr. Nikiforov! You know that our mail is very reliable. The most reliable and best. We will be glad if you continue to use only our services.

The guy talks a lot, trying to overcome the excitement, holds out another parcel. The parcel slips out of trembling hands, flying to the floor. The melodious sound of glass cuts the silence. The expression on Nikiforov’s face is priceless.

-Oh! - all that a postman can squeeze out of himself, the sound of breaking glass still stands in his ears - I compensate! Whatever it is, I will indemnify you for all losses. Absolutely everything. As you wish. Just do not write a complaint, please. I really need this job.

\- Really?! - the man kicks the corner of the box with anger. - Compensating for a set of designer glasses from Bohemian glass ?! They arrived from the Czech Republic and remained intact until they fell into your hands.

\- Sorry ... - the young man asks, pleadingly looking into the blond's eyes.

Nikiforov brushes aside the evil and walks over to the postman, lifting his chin, examining his face, looking into his eyes.

\- And you are not bad. Beautiful.

What? Was he called beautiful? The brown-haired man looks confusedly at the man over his glasses.

Nikiforov, however, bends lower above his face, gently outlines the bend of his lips with his finger, pulls him to his shoulders.

\- And you smell so good. Appetizingly. So how did you want to work there, sweetie? - the man whispers hoarsely in his ear and carries away in a long insatiable kiss.

Katsuki, however, thinks that this day is not at all as bad as it seemed. Definitely.


End file.
